


summer lovin'.

by goldandguns



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandguns/pseuds/goldandguns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a summer of heat, intense sunshine, and beach parties, and Harry finds he can't handle his drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	summer lovin'.

Harry first knew of Louis when he was 16 and Louis was 18, and Harry was working in a small town bakery during his summer holidays before college began. Everyone knew of Louis Tomlinson, self-proclaimed ‘Swagmaster from Doncaster’, the one who would hold outrageous parties at his flat, the kind that would only be forgotten by being replaced by another one of his parties.

Louis had called Harry his ‘favourite baker boy’ and although 98% of Harry grew ecstatic at the thought of being Louis’ favourite anything, the 2% of common sense reminded him that he was probably not the first to hear this, nor was it very hard to remember that Louis liked to drink hot chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, alongside an almond croissant; he ordered it on a frequent basis. Regardless, Louis would sit at the stool in front of the counter, where he could watch Harry, who would grow flustered from being watched by someone as good looking as Louis, and would tend to drop whatever it was in his hand, causing Louis to give a laugh that would make Harry’s stomach flip like a pancake, and his boss yelling him warnings that today would be his last day of employment if he kept this up. At times like this, Harry forgot about common sense, and wanted these moments to last forever, because they were all he had.

-

Harry didn’t see Louis again for a while, and Harry had begun to push him to the back of his mind, insisting to himself that Louis had found another bakery to visit, and another baker boy to turn into putty in his hands.

It was a summer of heat, intense sunshine, and beach parties. That was where Harry saw Louis again, on the other side of the campfire, his brown hair glowing in the firelight, his eyes the shade of the sea. He was wearing a simple white t shirt and cut offs and sandals, and his skin was bronze and, in Harry’s opinion, utterly God-like. It took him a while to realise he was staring at all, when his friend shook him out of his reverie, asking what he was looking at. Harry ducked his head, and shook it a little, and the lull of conversation and the passing round of drinks continued, Harry only half paying attention, sipping at his own drink, feeling an ache in the side of his head that made him wish he was still at home.

“He’s looking at you, you know.”

Harry looked around to see someone talking to him – what was his name? Harry couldn’t even remember; school felt like so long ago, and he wasn’t that close to many people.

“Who?”

“That dude Louis.” The boy gestured vaguely to the other side of the campfire, and Harry’s gaze followed, and sure enough, although Harry was sure that it was all a dream, Louis was looking directly at him, despite the fact that he was surrounded by a crowd of people, all of whom either seemed drunk, high, or stripping themselves down and yelling about skinny dipping. Louis winked, and turned back to a girl who had slid herself onto his lap and seemed intent on staying there for as long as possible, and had conveniently placed herself so that her chest was directly in level with Louis’ eye line. Harry laughed at that, and turned back to his group, who were passing a cigarette around to share, one that he declined; Harry did a lot of things, but smoking wasn’t one of them. And that ache in the side of his head was increasing with each breath he took, and the next thing he knew, everything was black.

-

“Baker boy?”

Harry’s eyelids fluttered open, and he was sure that this must be what Heaven is like, because all he could see what Louis; Louis’ sea drenched hair, the outline of his chest, the freckles across his nose. Harry felt slightly delirious from it all.

“You have cute freckles.”

Louis gave his tinkling laugh that made Harry’s stomach swoop, except now it was a slightly different sensation, and all Harry could say was, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Louis didn’t reel at this, but put an arm around Harry’s waist (something that Harry would try and remember the next morning, if his drunken state would allow it) and pulled him up. He didn’t let go.

“Let’s get you home, baker boy.”

Harry didn’t want to go home like this, but he did want to go home with Louis, so he didn’t protest too much when Louis directed him away from the beach and the noise and the warmth of the fire, and towards his car.

The drive to Harry’s house was far too quick for his liking, and with the window wound down this far, with his hair whipping in the wind, and Louis’ hand brushing against Harry’s thigh each time he went to change gears, Harry was hoping that there’d be something, anything, to delay his journey home. Because although he was sure Louis would do this for anyone, the fact was that he had chosen to give Harry a lift, even with the risk of him throwing up in his car, and Louis kept taking his eyes off the road to look at Harry and asking him if he was okay, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from saying that he felt fucking fantastic because Louis was with him, and it was strange because Harry barely knew him, he had only ever known of him.

But the drive was over, and Louis stopped the car, and suddenly Harry didn’t feel infinite anymore, he just felt like a child that had to be chauffeured home by someone who got paid to do it.

“Th-thanks for the ride.” Harry stumbled out of the car and didn’t even turn back to see if Louis would say anything; he was sure Louis would laugh at the fact that he couldn’t even handle his drink.

It was past midnight and dark, and Harry fumbled around for his house keys, which seemed to be nowhere to be found.

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” He heard the slam of a car door, and then a, “Can I help?” and the next thing he knew, he was facing Louis, and Louis was kissing him, sweet gentle kisses that made Harry’s mind race because he didn’t know why this was happening to him of all people but God, he could get addicted to the taste of Louis’ lips, and that was why he kissed Louis back, and his hand found its way to Louis’ hair and Louis’ hands were all over Harry and every part of skin that he touched burned from the pleasure of skin against skin, and Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

And then, it was cold, and Harry tilted his head up to look directly at Louis, and Louis was smiling. Not his ironically sweet ‘don’t-mess-with-me-‘ smile, but a real one, one that made him seem shy and a lot less like the Swagmaster.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Harry’s heart jumped at those words, and then common sense kicked in again, and he was laughing.

“We only met a couple of weeks ago.”

Louis shrugged. “That’s long enough for me. Anyway I’ve seen you round from before then.”

Harry was surprised by that because he had never seen Louis anywhere before the beginning of summer, and he was sure that he wouldn’t have missed someone like him.

“Where?”

“Here and there.”

Louis wasn’t going to say any more, and Harry didn’t mind because an amazing thing had just happened and he didn’t want to ruin it by banal conversation.

“I’m glad you did.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at that. “Glad I noticed you around or that I kissed you?”

Harry needed a moment to savour the fact that Louis said those words; ’I kissed you.’ He contemplated the question, and responded with, “Both.” Louis took a bow, and Harry laugh wasn’t his usual laugh because he still felt a little drunk and still delirious from the car ride and the kiss and the fact that maybe he really was Louis’ favourite baker boy.

“By the way,” Louis put his hand out and there lay Harry’s front door key on his palm. “It was in your back pocket.”

“You found it!” Harry wanted to kiss him again because he was afraid of having to wake his mother up, and he knew how ugly things could get if she opened the door to find him drunk on the doorstep with a stranger, albeit a handsome stranger. But then maybe that wasn’t such a good idea when it was Louis and Harry wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop if he kissed Louis again. Instead, he unlocked the door, and watched as Louis walked back to his car, saying, “Call me!”

“I don’t have-”

Louis got into the driving seat. “Check your other pocket.” Sure enough, there was a scrap piece of paper with a mobile number already written on it, and Harry wondered when he’d even written it, and how would he have planted it if Harry hadn’t passed out.

“I’ll consider it,” was all Harry said, although his heart was thumping all over again as he shut the door and leant against it, trying to get a grip of what happened in the one night, when there was a knock at the door. He opened it, and it was Louis again, his car door open, engine still running.

“I don’t know your name, baker boy.”

Harry was going to remind him that his name tag on his work apron had his name on it, but realised that Louis was probably busy checking out other things to check what his name was.

“It’s Harry. Harry Styles.”

Louis stepped forward, and Harry knew it was going to happen this time, but it didn’t make him want to melt any less in Louis’ arms when it did, and when he pulled away, Louis looked a little cross eyed.

“Well, Harry, I’m not the only one with cute freckles here.” Harry pushed him off the doorstep, and Louis went back to his car laughing, the sound of it reverberating in Harry’s mind even when he finally fell asleep.


End file.
